Safe
by Little Yellow Sunflower
Summary: He had to keep going, had to keep hoping. What more was there to do in this hell? He took everything one day at a time, hoping that he would find his twin. He had to keep hoping, because there was nothing left to cry for. He had to hope Mattie was safe. In the mean time, he tried to keep himself alive.


Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine, thankee very much.

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There was darkness all around him, swaddling him, cradling him. He couldn't move in the emptiness, and that distressed him. In his displeasure with the black that surrounded him, he began to fight. Writhing, he screamed like a trapped beast, and maybe, he thought, maybe he was. A beast, trapped in this nothingness, ensnared for all eternity, with no hope of escape.

These revelations only made him fight harder, more desperately. It made sense now! If he was not a wild thing, a snarling, caged beast, then what was he? Nothing! Just like what was all around him. He wasn't nothing! He was a living, breathing... thing. This thought curled about him, soothing and sweet. He wasn't nothing, no, he was definitely something.

Was he, though? Maybe that was only the nothingness speaking, whispering poison into his veins! No. No, it wasn't the darkness. He _was_ something, and that was that. The emptiness receded at this thought. He could move again! Immediately he sprang to his feet. He wobbled around in the blank space of being for some time, before he saw a light. '_Here._' It whispered, tugging at him gently '_I am safe, I am warm. Come here_'.

Yes, he thought, that was a good idea. He shuffled towards the light. '_How hungry you are!_' The kind voice proclaimed '_Come to me, and you will be fed._' it promised. Hungry... Oh yes, he was! His hunger snarled and bit at him, hurting him, scaring him. The light would help him; it had said so! He just needed something to eat, just needed something to make the pain stop. Anything would do, he realized, anything to fill the void. He stepped into the light.

His eyes opened again, but this time there was no darkness. No, it was bright here. He staggered to his feet, eyes swaying over to the right. Something moved within the green thing. '_Food._' The light's voice promised in his head. He charged straight into the color, arms reaching out, jaws slack. Yes, he could hear it now. Just a few more feet, and it would be-

He never got to finish that thought, because the 'food' lashed out and bashed his skull in. Alfred Jones regarded the corpse with disgust, and pity. The poor thing had been just a child, but it had been infected, and it had tried to eat him. There was no such thing as immune, and Alfred knew it. One bite and five minutes was all it took. This was not some stupid game, like he and his brother would play. He wished it were.

He wiped his bloody bat off on the grass. The sluggish, almost black, ooze that these... creatures produced made him shiver. Alfred stopped looking. Quietly, so as no to wake the neighborhood, he slid out of the bush. The only exit to the park was just across this field. The others had been barricaded, closed off in an attempt to create a stronghold. A few tents stood between him and the exit, spattered with blood, and sometimes torn.

A massacre had happened here. He could smell death on the breeze. Admittedly, there wasn't much else to smell these days, but it was more prominent here. Alfred braced himself to run. A few days ago and he would have searched the tents for supplies. A few days ago he hadn't known better. A few days ago, he had been stupid. Now though, a quick glance was all it took for his subconscious to steer him away. Unfortunately, he would have to go through the campsite to get out of this park.

Taking a deep breath, Alfred shot forward, sprinting for the only exit. His fingers tightened around the bat in his left hand. He was almost there now, nearly out the north end of the campsite. The world slowed around him as a zombie (they _were_ zombies, weren't they.) lunged out of one of the tents. He swung the bat. The pitiable creature crumpled. Alfred kept running. One smack to the stomach wouldn't keep the hell-spawn down and out.

He was right- he heard it screech, followed by that horrible clicking noise they sometimes made. Gasping for air, he swung left once he tore passed the park gate. Alfred barely took notice of the mangled corpses of the guards as he dashed down the sidewalk. His feet slammed into the pavement, the dull thuds echoing in the silent city. Ducking inside a store, he tugged the doors shut, locking them behind him.

Despite having done this, he didn't let his guard down: the place wasn't secure, and he knew it. Chest heaving, Alfred latched onto the check-out counter. He couldn't breath, and he was going to die, oh god oh god oh god, Mattie! He tried to suck in a breath, but it burned, and oh _fuck_. Mattie, Mattie, Mattie; he couldn't leave his twin alone in this awful world. His brother's name brought about memories long forgotten, and he closed his eyes.

'Sips, not gulps, Al.' his brother murmured in his quiet voice. 'You're gonna be okay, but you gotta breathe.' He was eight and having a panic attack. There were too many people, and he couldn't breathe, couldn't handle it. He listened to his quiet twin's instructions. He could do this.

Alfred's eyes fluttered open, now fighting his panic. He slowed down, and batted away the instinct to get as much air as he could. Taking in tiny breaths of air, he worked to calm himself down. His fear of crowds was long gone, but the advice was still sound. Carefully, he let go of the counter. His knees wobbled, but he remained upright. After a few moments of breathing, he released a sigh of relief.

Finally, he gazed around the building he had locked himself in. Racks and racks of back-to-school clothing met his gaze. Polos, blouses, and t-shirts came into focus as he relaxed another degree. Khakis, skirts, and nice looking shoes on one wall, and backpacks on the other. A real dream come true. It had been two months sense the epidemic began, and it was getting colder. Alfred regarded his torn pants, and tattered shirt. It was the middle of November, he reasoned, and nobody was around to miss the clothes.

Alfred wasn't stupid by any means; he knew he couldn't take multiple changes of clothes with him. He needed to travel lightly, couldn't waste precious space with frivolous things. As much as he wanted to grab a bunch of fluffy sweaters, it just wasn't practical. Pulling his shirt off as quickly as he could, Alfred dropped it on the floor. Digging through the store to find something to suit his needs, the young man eventually made it to the men's section.

Shivering slightly in the brisk air, Alfred pulled a long-sleeved black t-shirt over his head, and that was that. Adding a new pair of jeans, and a backpack to the equation was perhaps the highlight of his day. Sparing one last longing glance at the sweaters, he pulled on his (much loved) leather jacket, and slid into the alley behind the store. The air was colder outside, now that the sun was setting, and Alfred grumbled quietly.

He needed to get somewhere secure for the night, and fast. He was dangerously tired, and the undead got restless in the calm of the night. Any survivor worth his lifeblood knew that. Alfred stumbled in the dark alleyway, barely catching himself before he face-planted. He was hungry, and exhausted, and Alfred knew he couldn't keep up at this pace without any rest. With a quick look around the alley, he saw no immediate danger. As quietly as he could, Alfred slunk out of the alleyway, and into the street.

As soon as he was out in the open, he dashed for cover. The undead's eyesight wasn't good, but they _could_ see, and they would definitely investigate a new figure in the road, if they saw him. Crouching next to a car, Alfred estimated that he had forty-five minutes to an hour before total darkness. With a quiet curse, he realized that he didn't know where to hide for the night. A hotel was out- raiders would be crawling about the place, and so would the zombies.

Taking a deep breath, he scanned the street. To the west- his observations were cut off by a gunshot. Alfred's eyes widened in fear; where the hell had that come from? "Fuck..." He growled, the sound still echoing off the walls of the buildings surrounding him. The dead had heard that, no question about it. Alfred winced as the zombies on his street turned towards the source of the noise, and staggered towards it.

They were going to pass the car he was crouched by, and if he wasn't careful, they would see him. There were too many to fight, and he couldn't run. Alfred considered this carefully, weighing his options. The undead grew closer and closer, shuffling limbs picking up the pace as another gunshot sounded. "Fuck." He whispered again, realizing it was too late to run now, even if the odds had been bad before.

His fingers curled around the door handle, and once again he weighed his options. He could either crawl under the car (which was still slightly risky(legless zombies were a thing, he had learned)), or chance trying the door and hoping an alarm didn't sound. The undead were growing closer, and Alfred could hear one of them making that horrible clicking sound. A third gunshot rattled the car's windows. He tugged on the handle. The car door clicked open, but no alarm sounded. Praising any deity listening for his or her generosity, Alfred slid into the vehicle.

As quickly as he could, he tugged the door shut, being careful to be quiet. Alfred flinched when the dull thud signaled his safety. Luckily another gunshot drew their attention away from him. He waited five minutes before opening the door and crawling out. The gunshots had stopped four minutes previous. It had be thirty seconds since the last scream. Alfred shuddered in disgust, and fear.

He sent up a quick prayer for the poor bastard, and went on his solemn way. Carefully, he slid across the street, going from cover to cover to remain unseen. Once he was across, Alfred slunk into the growing shadows, and headed for the outskirts of town. He needed to get out of the city, and soon. The bat creaked in his hand, and he loosened his grip on his beloved weapon.

His footsteps seemed infinitely louder, now that night was falling, and it was making him nervous. The quiet '_tak, tak, tak_' of his shoes on the pavement seemed to echo off of the buildings, and escape to the navy sky above him. Somewhere nearby, one of the undead groaned, and Alfred flinched. He pressed himself up to the rapidly cooling brick behind him, and held his breath as he sidled passed.

This was not a good time to get noticed, and Alfred knew it. He was getting closer to his safe-spot, but now that night was upon them the zombies' eyesight would be slightly improved, and he did _not_ want them to see him. He was at the final stretch of his run, but between him and his destination were close to a dozen zombies. Once again there were to many to fight, and Alfred let out an exasperated huff.

His eyes scanned the street, looking for a way to sneak past. With an inward curse, he noticed that there weren't any. There were two possible ways of doing this; he could slip past the undead, and get to his safe-house that way, or he could go the long way around. Going the long way was dangerous because the temperature was rapidly dropping, but braving the group of the undead was dangerous as well. With a quick glance to the sky, Alfred made up his mind.

Quietly, he began tip-toeing towards the undead as carefully as he could. One step after another, Alfred grew closer to victory. He didn't stay on that thought long; with every step he took, death grew just as close as safety. Silent as the grave, he recognized the halfway point. He took another tentative step- and kicked a rock. It skittered loudly across the pavement causing a clatter. He cursed mentally as the nearby undead shuffled towards him.

He held his breath when he noticed a pair of luminescent night-eyes not three feet to his left. Carefully, as though he were in a hostage situation, talking down the criminal, he bent down. Every shuffle of his clothing was dangerous, but Alfred managed to scoop up a stone. He hurled it as far behind him as he could, and listened. The loud bangs and thumps of the stone got the zombies' attention, and he waited until the nearest ones were headed for the rock before he made a move.

Swiftly, he just about flew down the sidewalk and around the corner. Pressing himself to a brick wall, Alfred let out a shuddering breath. He had been on the wrong end of a few close calls, lately, but that had been the worst of them. That settled it: he was leaving the city tomorrow, and heading westward. His resolve steeled, Alfred pushed off of the wall, and made for the abandoned building at the end of the street. He was home free! Just a few more yards and he would be out of the dark. Throwing caution to the wind, Alfred made a dash for it.

He was hungry and aching, but he pushed himself. It's right there, his mind screamed, come _on_, you lazy bastard! Before he could comprehend it, in his bone-weary state, he was fumbling with the doorknob. Wrenching the only entrence open, he leapt in and slammed the door shut, locking in. Pushing a couch in front of it, he dropped his new backpack on the floor of the building, and sank down next to it. He, Alfred, was safe- for now.

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Here you go- something with zombies in it. Why not, eh?

Posted On: 7-12-13


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